


But She Left Anyway

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 01:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12901149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: Amidst all the words they exchanged, all the cries to leave, to get the hell away; all he ever really wanted was for her to stay.





	But She Left Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> clearing out some drafts!

“Don’t leave!” He heard Peko whisper, the quietest of sounds in the night as she came running to his side. Her little feet were bare, and her expression was frantic; eyes wide. Her hand met his shoulder. That, of all gestures, was solid and firm. “Young master, it’s dangerous out there!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Fuyuhiko shrugged her off angrily, cheeks puffing. “I don’t need you! Go away!”

“It is my duty as a tool to protect you.” Peko told him, hand meeting his shoulder again. “If you choose to leave the estate, then at least let me come with you.”

“No, Peko!” He growled. He pointed his own hand – small and nowhere near as calloused as hers – back towards the looming walls. “You stay in there, and I will go out on my own!”

“I cannot allow that!” She replied, grip tightening. “Please come back in. There is nothing to be gained going out on your own.”

“No! Fuck off!”

“Young master…” Her expression was stoic as always. Fuyuhiko stared at her – started a staring contest in fact – but Peko remained unmoving. She didn’t bat an eyelash as he began to struggle in her grasp. “Please come back inside.” She said once more.

“… fine.” He relented, dropping his gaze and kicking the ground in frustration. It was unfair that Peko was bigger and stronger than him, unfair that she always had to look out for him, unfair to him, unfair to her. He was such a burden. He was her greatest burden.

He’d get away next time.

* * *

“Don’t leave for the woods alone again, young master,” Peko was saying as she bandaged his trembling hand. “I know that you enjoy climbing trees but master will not be pleased if you keep injuring yourself like this.”

“I know that,” Fuyuhiko huffed, eyes watery. “I just wanted to show you how much better I’ve gotten. I can do things without you, okay? You don’t have to baby me all the time. I’m nine. Almost ten, you know? Almost a decade. Who says I need a babysitter?”

“I am here only to be a tool,” Peko told him coolly. She had said so many times before. “That is what your parents have requested of me.”

“Will you call me Fuyuhiko already?” He asked, deliberately avoiding her statement. “It’s always ‘young master’ this, ‘young master’ that. Friends should call each other by name, right?”

“We are not friends.”

Fuyuhiko wrenched his hand from her grip, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm when he did so. This was more important. If he had to throw a tantrum for Peko to understand, then he would. He gave her his best angry face. “Fine. Then I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Peko looked startled. “But young master – ”

“Nope.”

“Young master, at least allow me to finish dressing your wound.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“It’s bleeding.”

“I know.”

“Young master.”

“Can’t hear you,” he sang, cupping his palms over his ears.

“... Fuyuhiko.”

“Yeah?”

Peko sighed, grabbing hold of his hand to continue patching it up, but this time her grip was deathly tight. “Don’t do that ever again.”

“Dammit Peko! You’re crushing my fingers.”

“As long as you know.” She said, ghost of a smile touching her lips, but never quite revealing itself. “As long as you know.”

* * *

“Don’t leave yet.” Peko grabbed his sleeve, pulling him around the corner. “There are hitmen outside. They are targeting you.”

Fuyuhiko groaned. “Fuckin’ hell, do they ever quit?”

“It can’t be helped, young master.” Peko drew her sword, keeping as quiet as possible. Her sharp red eyes were bright and alert. “You are the heir of the Kuzuryuu Clan.”

“Man, you always like stating the facts, don’t you?” He clicked his tongue, and cracked his knuckles. If they had to spill blood again, he wanted to be the one to do it. This time he’d show them. “Why don’t we just go out there and teach those bastards a lesson?”

“We do not know how many there are.”

“We’ll just take ‘em all down, then.”

Peko shook her head. “You stay here. I will defeat them all.”

“How about ‘fuck no’? Do you want a full list of why I think that’s a really shitty idea?”

“I am your tool.” Peko reminded him.

“No, you’re not, and I don’t want a fucking tool.” He reminded Peko.

She didn’t reply, only flew off in a sudden burst of speed, faster than he could react. He dove after her immediately, rounding the corner to encounter a battlefield. She hunted like a bird of prey. Striking, fighting, fleeing – a dance she had perfected over the years, in the late hours of the night, when young Fuyuhiko and young Natsumi had been in peaceful, ignorant slumber.

“Oi, Peko, you piece of shit! Listen to me!” He shrieked, as her practiced form cut down person after person right before his eyes.

She did not acknowledge the statement, but swung her sword dangerously close to fend off a taller, suited man sneaking up behind Fuyuhiko – and he grumbled and cursed, because he could have totally taken that guy out on his own.

It wasn’t long before they were all wiped out. She even chased the stragglers, sparing them no mercy; just as his father had taught her. Upon her return to his side, she said nothing of her actions, simply dropped her cellphone into his hands. “Call the clean-up team.”

Begrudgingly, he did as he was told, sprinkling a few expletives in when the official cleaners for the Kuzuryuu Clan mentioned they had much rather hear from Pekoyama herself. Call over, he handed back the phone, and Peko tucked it neatly back into the band of her skirt.

He crossed his arms and glared fiercely at her.

“I did not defy your orders.” Peko told him curtly. “Because you did not give me any.”

“That’s because you’re not my slave!”

“I am not.” Peko agreed. “I am even less than that, I am but a tool and nothing more.”

“No, no, fuck that, fuck you, I’m going home.” One foot after another, he began to walk away.

“I am coming with you.”

He chose not to say anything more, for there was nothing he could do to persuade her. He had tried everything he could think of. Tried in vain to convince her – _you are not a tool. You are not an object. You are a human being, and you are my friend. You are amazing, you are worth so much more than you realize. You are everything to me._

At the corner, he waited. Her shadow met his, and they walked home together in silence.

* * *

“Don’t leave that there.” Peko chided, and Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes.

“Where else am I supposed to put my gun?”

“If you leave it there, the young mistress will take it, and you know that master does not like her taking your weapons.”

“Well, Natsumi can have it if she wants. I don’t care.”

“Young master,” Peko warned.

“Ugh, whatever.” He picked up the gun and tucked it back into his jacket, where a slot for it was carefully sewn in. He then raised his arms, showing her the weapon in full view. “Happy now?”

Peko nodded, and moments later, Natsumi wandered carelessly in.

“Hey big brother! Hey Peko!” She waved, smiling cheerfully. “Do either of you have a weapon you could lend me for murder?”

Fuyuhiko shot her a stern look and a raised eyebrow. “Who pissed you off this week?”

“Nobody!” Natsumi sang, sticking her tongue out at her brother. Her façade dropped abruptly, growing cold as she then added, “Like usual, it was just some lowly piece of trash who doesn’t know anything, getting in my way.”

“Young mistress,” Peko tried to grab her, but Natsumi skipped away.

“Well, it looks like neither of you are any help at all!” The blonde huffed. “I’ll make up my own killing methods then!”

She left with a bounce in her step, cackling all the way down the hallway.

“Like hell you will!” Fuyuhiko shouted after her.

Peko looked momentarily concerned, then, perhaps realizing that it was showing on her face, she immediately schooled her expression back into her natural calm.

“Relax.” Fuyuhiko told her. “She may be crazy, but she’s not _actually_ gonna kill anyone. You know that, right?”

Peko didn’t look at him. “I understand… young master.”

* * *

 

“Don’t.” Peko said quietly. “Leave it. I will take care of it.”

“Peko,” Fuyuhiko fumed. “Natsumi is _dead_.”

She hung her head, guilt clouding her pretty features. “I’m sorry, young master.”

“It wasn’t – _fuck,_ ” His fists clenched. “It wasn’t your fault. I’ll… I’ll _kill_ them, I’ll kill whoever murdered my sister!”

“Let me – ”

“No, Peko!” He shouted suddenly, swinging to face her with a choked cry of pain. “I have to kill them! _I_ have to do it! You can fuck right off and leave me the hell alone!”

She didn’t flinch, but her eyes flashed dangerously. “I am your tool, this is your opportunity, you can use me to – ”

Fuyuhiko didn’t want to hear any more, so he stormed off, wiping furiously at the tears that stung at his eyes. His heart was filled with nothing but vengeance.

* * *

 

“Don’t leave now, dumbasses.” Fuyuhiko laughed. “The fun part’s just getting started.”

_Despair._

Peko raised her swords. He felt a surge of pride. The crowd began to part.

_Despair._

“Come _on,_ ” he swiped a hand across his eyepatch, other eye surveying them with wicked glee. The gathering of Future Foundation members – pathetic, pathetic, _pathetic_ – stood their ground, teeth gnashing, weapons in hand. “You don’t have to pull such pitiful faces. Despair is infinite. It never ends. Just surrender already. It’ll be easier for both of us.”

“Never.” Some poor insignificant soul hissed. “We will never give up hope!”

Fuyuhiko sighed. How disappointing. “Peko?”

“Understood, young master.”

The skies filled with cries of agony and the crossing of blades. As stories were spread henceforth, the master and his tool brought destruction upon everything they touched, eyes filled with the sight of blood and swirling, all-consuming despair.

* * *

 

“Leave.” Fuyuhiko murmured, as he peered out of the barred window of the boat. His hands were clean. He felt ill, sick to the bone, like he needed to kill to feel alive again. He needed despair like he needed air, and he was suffocating without it.

His mind screamed for more, but he couldn’t do anything short of pushing Peko away – which was a feat he hadn’t accomplished for all the years he had been alive.

“Get the fuck out, Peko.” He commanded, voice low. “Leave me alone.”

Peko gestured towards the bolted steel door with a blank stare. “I can’t.”

Fuyuhiko scowled. “Find a way.”

“My body has been numbed.” Peko said. “And they have taken all my weapons. I am useless, and cannot be of service to you any longer. I recommend you dispose of me at your nearest convenience.”

“Whatever.” He replied. Fuyuhiko felt his own body wilt a little, and he rested his head back against the wall behind him. “Where are they taking us anyway?”

“I do not know.”

“Do you think they have everyone else?”

“Likely.”

“Damn. This sucks.”

The boat lurched. Peko fell forward, and met the floor with a dull thud. Fuyuhiko watched her, single working eye dull and lifeless, as Makoto Naegi knocked on the door.

* * *

 

“Leave. Go to that party.” Fuyuhiko told her, clicking his tongue. “You don’t want to draw suspicion towards us, okay? I’ll be fine. You go.”

“But young master – ”

“But nothing, Peko. Just go.”

She left with one last glance over her shoulder. Always so reluctant to leave his side.

“I’ll be _fine._ ” He reassured her with a roll of his eyes.

“Stay safe.” Peko told him.

 _You too,_ he said inwardly. He walked away.

* * *

 

“Leave! Now!” Peko raised her voice, piercing through his shock. Tendrils of dread wrapped around his heart and his blood grew cold – he saw her standing there. He saw Mahiru on the ground. He saw death.

“What the fuck, Peko?!”

He knew what she had done. He knew why. God, Peko was always doing this shit to him, she was always sacrificing herself for him, this was the worst idea she’s had yet, he didn’t dare see this through, he didn’t want Mahiru to die, he just needed an explanation for the damn photos and …!

“Leave, young master! You said it yourself. Don’t draw suspicion.”

“Peko, no, I – ”

“Leave!”

Anguished, and unable to do anything other than obey, he fled the scene of the crime.

It was the first time Peko had ever told him to go.

* * *

 

“Don’t leave!” He screamed at Peko through pained sobs, uncaring of their audience and uncaring of the way his hand stretched out pathetically towards her. Nothing mattered; only her. Only Peko. “ _Don’t leave me_!”

Tears bloomed in her eyes, a glassy sheen to her ever loyal gaze, and she started to shake. Her body trembled all over, fear resonating through her like he’d never seen it, and never once wanted to see. To think that the first time he’d seen Peko cry would be the last he’d ever see of her. He was distraught, hoping that the louder he pleaded, the closer she would come to him – and the sooner he could save her from her fate.

Just a little more, he begged, watching her own fingers reach instinctively towards him, before she clutched them tight to her chest. _Dammit!_

“Young master…!” She answered him, unable to drop the formalities even now. God, he had worked so hard, all these years, and she’d never stopped calling him that. It hurt, of course it fucking hurt, but nothing would hurt more than losing her, and he’d be damned if he let this happen.

Monokuma was saying something, but he wouldn’t listen – he didn’t care. He had to save her somehow, had to protect her from harm like she’d always done for him, so he ran.

Past gasps of surprise, leaving flaky tracks of sand, he sprinted towards Peko with every last bit of his strength, watching her cut down object after object just as he had done many times before. He shoved the armored puppets aside, and watched her in one awful frozen moment as she sliced vertically down – felt the split second of searing hot pain in his eye before he knew what was happening.

She was an image of beautiful tragedy. Closing in, face contorted with raw emotion, she cradled his head in her arms. He could see his vision blurring, the edges flickering with black spots before plunging into darkness completely. Blindly, weakly, he felt for something to hold onto.

Peko held onto him with everything she had. The impact was scorching, terrifying, her tears fell onto him like droplets of fire, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

He thought he was going to die.

“Don’t... leave me… don’t… leave...” he heaved, weak voice drowned out by the clattering of metal corpses, and Peko’s broken sobs – and then, there was nothing.


End file.
